Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Rat in me kitchen, part 3: The Mother of All Rats

(This is Part 3. Read Part 1 and Part 2 first if you haven't yet.)

Out came the rattrap again, and up the stairs we went. When we came down the next morning, the cage was full of five dark grey cute little baby rats that peered up at us with winsome black eyes and huddled in the corner of the trap and peeped piteously when they saw us. Turns out that the Shaq Rat from Hell was actually the Mother of All Rats. "Ha! We got a bunch of them this time," said my companion.

"What are we gonna do with them?"

"Drown 'em."

"Drown them?"

"Yeah, drown them."

"Are you gonna drown them?"

"Aren't you gonna?"

"Not me."

"Why not? You drowned the other one."

"Yeah, I drowned the Shaq Rat from Hell, the Mother of All Rats, but that doesn't mean I wanna drown five cute little baby rats. Anyway, it's your turn, you drown 'em."

"I don't wanna drown 'em."

I waited. He waited too. I broke first. "What're you gonna to do with them?" I said.

"Let's leave them outside overnight," he said, "and they'll freeze to death."

"We already tried that."

"That was the mother. These are babies."

"If they didn't freeze inside our kitchen, how're they gonna freeze outside?"

"Let's just try it."



We left the trap with the baby rats outside behind the building and went out and did missionary work all day. In the evening when we came back, we checked on the rats. They were still alive. When they saw us, they peered up at us with winsome black eyes and huddled in a corner of the trap, peeping piteously. I looked at my companion. "They're not gonna freeze," I said. "You have to drown them."

"Let's just try it," he said.



So we left the trap outside and went in. The next morning, we went outside to check on the rats. They were dead. Frozen stiff. Son of a gun. My companion was right and I was wrong -- first time that ever happened. He picked up the cage and started to open it. "What are you doing?" I said.

"I'm gonna dump out these dead rats."

"What, right here behind the church?"

"Yeah. They'll decay and return to nature."

"In the snow?"

"Sure. It's outside, right?"


"Dead animals decay and return to nature when they're outside, right?"

"Not in the winter."

"Why not?"

"Because it's below freezing."

"Let's just try it."

"They're still gonna be there when the snow melts."

"Let's just try it."



It snowed that night and covered up the dead baby rats. Soon after, my companion transferred to another town. I didn't see any rats, live or dead, for six weeks. Then the snow started to melt. My new companion said, "Why are there five dead mice behind the church?"

I said, "Those aren't mice, they're baby rats."

"Why are there five dead baby rats behind the church?"

"It's a long story…."


  1. I can't believe you killed the babies.

    I love these stories. Didn't you say you were writing a novel? If it's anything like this, I'd read it. You've got talent, sir.

    More mission stories! Especially when they involve dialogue that degenerates into "Fine"s.

    And I'll forget the comment about my redundancy if you'll actually tell us your five quirks. I'm dying to know what YOUR quirks are.


  2. We didn't kill the babies, they just went to sleep and never woke up.


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